Felurian's Story
by Aninams
Summary: I experimented with the idea of Felurian being human once, turned to a faerie from the madness of the loss of her father. I appologize beforehand if there are errors in my grammar or spelling. I have spellchecked as well as I could, but English is not my native language.


_She had always been beautiful – the most beautiful women mankind had ever seen, in fact – but she hadn't always been Felurian, and she hadn't always been part of the Fae. She used to be like just you, she just never felt like it._

 _Her name was Gemma, or at least it used to be._

"Gemma, did you hear me?"

The man's voice was annoying, like a bug refusing to leave her alone, no matter how much she waved it away. She had heard him the first time, she just didn't want to listen. What was the point, anyway? The man was horribly dull, and seemed to only care about the marriage arrangement he proposed because he thought she would look good as his accessory wife. Little did he know that Gemma had her own needs, and that she intended to care for them. She needed excitement; something this man obviously couldn't give her.

She eyed him with curiosity, letting her dark eyes wander over his features. She was handsome, sure, but she could do better. She was used to men wanting her. Even women watched her with envy and admiration as she passed, and she had learned that her beauty gave her power. It was something she could use to get what she wanted, and no one would ever dare to question her. Well, maybe except for her father. Her father treasured her like nothing else, but he was also the only one who spoke up to her; something that wasn't as annoying as it was a relief to feel like a _person_ for once in a while.  
"Miss Worthigt – " the man began, but Gemma raised her hand and made him stop.  
"I heard you," she said. "It's just that I'm not interested."  
"With all due respect, miss Worthington, but this is a completely reasonable arrangement that I am sure would be in your best interest if you would just – "  
"No," she said, interrupting him once again. "I know what you're going to say, but I don't need you, mister Berkeley."

With no further explanation, she started at the door, her black hair following her like a beautiful shadow vail. She knew he would come after her if she could, and that was part of the excitement. Ever since she was but a child, when she'd first started to recognize the effect her beauty had on people, she had loved to toy with people. She didn't exactly _enjoy_ the feeling of power it gave her. No, this was something else. Something bigger. At first she had felt like this was what she was meant for, but she had soon started to get tired of it. People where all the same, and the excitement stopped when she realized that whomever she met, they would all treat her the same. First there was the staring, the absolute awe of her beauty. Second there where the compliments, and the blushes, and the abnormal politeness. Then there was either the proposal, or the fear of her. As if her beauty would somehow make her a bad person, or even dangerous.

And now, at the age of twenty-one, she wanted more. In fact, she had wanted more for a really long time, and she grew more and more tired of her life every day. You would think unmeasurable beauty would be a blessing, but it turned out that whoever thought that was horribly wrong. And the more she realized it, the more scared she was. She was convinced that this was going to stop her form ever living the life of adventures that she dreamed of.

The only one who seemed to understand her longing was her father. Her dear, dear father, who had always wanted the best for her. Her mother was like the rest of them; she only say the beauty, and never the person behind it. Her father was different. Although he recognized that Gemma was beautiful, he also recognized a part of himself in her: Her longing for adventure and excitement. They had always had this in common, which had resulted in an endless amount of nights where they'd stayed up late, despite Gemma's mothers dislike, and talked about the adventures her father had been on when he was younger. 

With determined steps, Gemma steered her steps up the stairs to go talk to her father, like she always did when she was down and tired of life. She just needed to hear one more story, and she knew she'd be just fine.

But something was different this time. The upper floor was quiet when she got up. Too quiet. The usual sound of her father's humming while he wrote was painfully absent, and Gemma knew what she'd find even before she entered her father's workshop.

On the floor next to the desk lay her father's body, white as snow and cold as ice. Dead.

With a scream Gemma crouched above her father's body, tears welling up from her eyes.

"Father!" she shouted, but there was no answer. Only silence.

An emptiness found its grip around Gemma. The kind of emptiness that you can only feel when something is terribly wrong, and you know that it will never be set right again. It consumed her, and then everything went dark. 

Gemma found herself in a glade, with no memory of how she got there. The quietness from before seemed to still be there, and the emptiness seemed more and more a part of her. If this wasn't madness, she didn't know what was.

"Hello?" she tried, "Is there anyone here?"

But there was no answer. She lay down on the ground, looking up at the dawning sky. She notices that she wasn't wearing any clothes, but somehow that didn't bother her. She closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but when she woke up, she opened her eyes to the same dawning sky as before. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, and stood up. The glade looked just like it had before, and there were still no signs of company. To try to figure out where she had come from, she started walking in the first direction that came to mind, hoping it would lead her somewhere. As she walked, the sky grew darker, and she decided to go back to the glade before dark. This was when she realized the sky moved with her, rather than with time. When she moved away from the glade, the sky grew darker, and when she moved away from it, it grew lighter.

"What is this place?" she said to herself.

She decided to make the glade in the dawn her home, and she returned there as soon as she got tired of exploring her surroundings. Even though she seemed to have won a part of her dream, though, she still wasn't happy. Now that she had her adventure, instead she longed for company. 

One day, a young fellow wandered by her glade. She immediately stopped him, and just like she knew he would, he was enchanted by her beauty and stayed the night with her to keep her company as she demanded.

"Who are you?" the young man asked her, when they sat close together in front of the bonfire they'd made together.  
"I don't know anymore," she replied, and it was true. She did no longer feel like Gemma Worthington, and she knew she was someone else now. _Something_ else. Something that belonged to The Fae.  
"How about I call you Felurian?" the man asked, and so Gemma Worthington became Felurian.

When she grew tired of him, she let him go. And that was Felurian's first victim.


End file.
